


Change in the House of the Fallen

by charons_boat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Acid, Angels, Attack, Deals, Death, Evalutions, Fallen Angels, Fauns, Framed Murder, Framing, Guards, Half-fallen angel, Hallucinations, Humans, I tagged it but aeron and beau aren't completely a thing, Kelcey has issues and those are just two of them, M/M, Medication, Mental Illness, Monsters, Murder, Muzzles, Mythical Monsters, Nurse - Freeform, Nurses, PTSD, Possessive kissing, Restraints, Reviews, Sirens, Solitary Confinement, Stockholm Syndrome, Strangers to Acquaintances, Strangers to Friends, Strangers to enemies, Temporary Character Death, Vampires, Werewolves, acid poisoning, i've realized the kelcey and arrian thing could be non-con so imma tag that, insane asylum, it's more implied, magic suppression devices, mentioned past torture, sin - Freeform, straitjackets, strange energy source, suppression, threatening kissing?, vaguely sexual but not meant to be, working together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charons_boat/pseuds/charons_boat
Summary: If one of Heaven's highest angels could fall, what did that mean for the world?The world would soon find out.
Relationships: Aeron Akuji/Beaumont Cessair, Arrian & Aeron Akuji, Arrian & Beaumont Cessair, Arrian & Cain | Hanraoi | Norae, Arrian & Kelcey Ambrose, Arrian & Lucius Lu, Lucius Lu & Cimeilliauc
Comments: 16
Kudos: 2





	1. A fog covered city, dull in the cold morn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ihopeitsfriday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihopeitsfriday/gifts).



> This is tagged as Teen and up but it's definitely late teens, please be at least 16 if you're reading this!! It's very dark and violent and probably disturbing to many, so please look at the Trigger Warnings I'll out before each chapter!
> 
> That being said, please don't give me criticism on this. It's for one person only and that's my friend alexis. She's the only opinion I really care about in regards to this fic.
> 
> Edit: I raised the rating and might raise it again once I get a second opinion, I realized it's a bit,, of a lot of graphic violence fjfnfn

It was January 3rd, cold and crisp. Fog covered the city, a light, cold breeze stirring the wispy clouds. A morning to stay inside if there ever was such a thing.

On that winter morning, before the sun had risen above the horizon, a truck arrived in the parking lot of the House of the Fallen. There was another name for it, but the moniker was used by nearly everyone who knew it. In that truck was something that would forever change life in the asylum. 

It was still night, so the only patients awake at the time were the nightowls, the amaroks, werewolves and vampires. When they brought it in and walked it past their cells, a murmur started up. Afterall, it wasn't everyday that a fallen angel was brought into a mental institution for the creatures of myth. As other patients woke up, either from the morning sunlight streaming into the windows or from the whispers of the nocturnals, the murmurs got louder and turned into a cacophony of overlapping voices and noises. Not all the patients spoke the language of humans. 

The ex-seraphim was still very proud, arrogant, vain, and it could be seen in the way he lifted his chin so everything he looked at was beneath him. It was when he had passed cells, of human and beast both, that the patients saw what he was striving to hide; the raw, weeping wounds on his back, six of them, where his wings had once been. The wounds were bright red, blood welling up and falling in crimson rivulets down his back. Those pale grey eyes of his, barely visible behind the fringe of ebony black hair, were swimming with rage, and with pain as well. Who wouldn't feel pain when being cast down from Heaven?

The guards leading him were human. They had bound him with chains, blessed by a priest. It was evident what they were after spotting the thin tendril of smoke curling its way from his shackled wrists to the ceiling above. The very guards leading him were once shocked and awed by the living myths around them, but those myths had by now faded into the nuisances of everyday life. Much like a mosquito or fly, in a sense. The fallen angel between them, however, was shocking and aweing them anew. They were surely doubting everything they'd learned in life.

Because if one of the highest angels in Heaven could fall into the dirt below, what did that mean for the world?

As many of the patients learned later on, the fallen angel was named Arrian. He was quite prideful, and quite insane as well. He certainly belonged in the House of the Fallen.


	2. Too bright, too new, too painful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions and brief description of an episode of PTSD
> 
> Edited on Jan 30 2020

I got sick of this place quickly. The room they put me in was too white. The pants were uncomfortable, and the bandages around my chest were too tight. The chains I'd been bound in when I came left angry red burns, which in turn left weeping rings on my arms. The food was appalling, and the other patients were insufferable. They had me alone in my cell, at least until the wounds on my back healed over. I made sure they stayed open so I wouldn't get anyone put in here with me. It was bad enough having to go to the commons area for an hour or more every day, where they all just stared at me, which made me very uncomfortable. I hated it in this place.

They kept trying to diagnose what was wrong with me. So far they had PTSD and prolonged states of delirium. With every new diagnosis, they gave me more pills, more shots. They changed the bandages everyday, and tried new things ever so often to fix up my back. So far I'd ripped out stitches, scrubbed ointments off my wounds, and scratched my way through layers of bandages all the way down to the bone. I was determined to stay alone in my room.

The nurse opened the door and walked in backwards with a cart of pills and syringes. She gave me a plastic smile and started sorting my pills from the others. It only took her practiced fingers a few seconds, and then she was holding her hand out towards me. I frowned at her and crossed my arms over my chest. Even now, I hadn't taken the pills on my own. I refused to let myself rely on them to fix something that wasn't even there. She kept her plastic smile on her face and forced the pills into my mouth. Even then, I let them sit in my mouth and dissolve. She forced liquid into my mouth, and I had to swallow when she put a hand over my mouth and nose. She turned to the cart and came back seconds later with syringes between her fingers. I stared at the wall while she stabbed them into my arms. 

"Okay, Arrian, time to change those bandages," she said in a voice like artificial sweetener. She unwrapped them quickly and easily, and I noticed a marked lack in bandages sticking to skin. Something was up, and my suspicions were confirmed when the nurse opened her mouth again.

"Very good, these are healing nicely. Let me just put more ointment and bandages on," came the horrible words. I sat in shock as she wound the white fabric around my chest. She had left the room by the time I blinked and came back to myself. I glanced at the little clock on the wall and groaned when I saw that I had ten minutes until I was subjected to the commons area again. I considered trying to fight back when they came to take me there today, but by the time the ten minutes had passed I had already decided it wasn't worth the effort. The door opened, and the blonde nurse that always took me to the commons area walked in. I let her grab my hand and lead me away.

I sat in my corner, just as I had everyday I was forced in here. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back on the wall, lightly so it wouldn't cause me too much pain; I wanted my wounds to stay open, but that didn't mean I liked the pain. I closed my eyes and tried to block everything out, annoyed by the plethora of strange noises around me. I wasn't used to so many noises, because there were really only angels in Heaven. All the other patients here were completely new to me. I'd just gotten my mind to go blank when I heard a muffled voice in front of me.

"Hey, you're Arrian, aren't you," the voice asked. I sighed and opened my eyes, looking at the person in front of me. He had a shock of violent red hair, partially covering his darker red eyes until he shook it to the side. There was a black mask over his mouth and nose, and he was in a white strait-jacket. He was staring down at me, waiting for me to respond. I sighed again, and nodded.

"Yes, I'm Arrian. Can you go away now, I was trying to ignore everyone," I told him. He shook his head and sat down in front of me.

"Nope, I'm new here and I need a friend. I heard your name and it sounded cool, so I set out to find you and now here I am. My name is Lucius Lu; I'm Korean," he said, pausing for a moment. "And a vampire. How about you?" His eyes were a little too big for my liking, and I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was smiling. I looked away after a few seconds and mumbled an answer. "What was that? I couldn't hear."

"I'm a fallen angel. I was a seraphim before I was cast down from Heaven," I said louder. His eyes got wider. 

"Really?! That's so cool! But, how did you get stripped of your wings," he asked, his voice loud, and I wondered momentarily how loud this vampire would be if he didn't have the mask over his mouth. His question made me think of the answer, of the reason I was thrown away. I'd gone against one of the most important rules, and I'd taken a trip to Hell. I was curious, and I hadn't thought anything would come of it. But I'd gone back to Heaven, only to be met with the High Council. They'd immediately ripped my wings from my body and thrown me to the earth. Thinking of that made my back hurt; it was like my wings were being ripped out all over again, like I was falling thousands of miles through open air, unable to fly, to save myself. I hit the ground again, just as hard as I did in my memory, and I screamed with the pain that erupted from my back.

There were hands on me, holding me to the floor as I stared blankly at the ceiling, too caught up in my memories to notice what was happening around me. They put something in my mouth, and I swallowed it without really thinking. I passed out a few moments later, and dreamed of that horrible day, over and over and over, until it felt like I was going mad with the pain and betrayal I felt.


	3. A difference in perspectives is sometimes all it takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of medication for mental illness, descriptions of hallucinatory side effects, and heavily implied torture to another character (in the past).

When I woke up, there was a small boy sitting on the bed opposite mine. He was young and scrawny, barely fifteen. Like Lucius had worn, he was in a pure white strait-jacket. The mask over his mouth was made of leather instead of simple cloth, and seemed to be bolted in place along his cheekbones and jawline; I doubted that they would decorate the mask of a patient in a mental facility. I stared at him as he stared at me. The more I stared, the more I realized something had to be wrong with him. His frame was painfully thin, bordering on skeletal, and his white hair was thin and looked dry. His eyes must have been a shockingly bright blue once, but now they were like watered down paint, a thin blue that could've passed as grey. There was little emotion in those eyes.

"Arrian, you're awake!"

Lucius from the sounds of it. The boy stared at me as I jumped and looked out the window, seeing the red-headed vampire in the cell -they preferred that we refer to them as rooms, so we didn't feel like we were in prison- across from us. I rolled my eyes, my gaze landing back on the boy. I shifted uncomfortably and winced as a twinge of pain ran up my spine. I couldn't look away from him. 

"Arrian," the vampire shouted again. I broke away from the boy's gaze and stared at him questioningly. "Aren't you gonna ask where that little kid came from?" The boy turned around and glared at the vampire after that. Lucius shrugged it off, even seemed to be smiling under his mask. "Well, I guess you aren't, but I'll tell you anyways. After you passed out they brought everyone back to our cages, and they brought him in after that. He's just been staring at you, it's really weird actually. He hasn't said a word."

He was staring at me again. I scowled at him, and he only seemed to grin. His eyes scrunched up just the slightest bit, the only indication he might have had a smile on his lips. 

"What-"

"My friend is in here too," he said, voice extremely muffled by the thick leather over his mouth. 

"That's ni-"

"But I'm sad because they won't let me see him. They put me in here with you instead. I don't know why I'm here with you instead of him. Could you help me find him," the boy asked. His voice, what I could hear of it, travelled up and down with a natural lilt. I wondered why he was here upon hearing him speak at length; he didn't sound completely sane. 

"I don't know how I could help you," I said earnestly, though not without some bite to it. This kid was creeping me out. If he hadn't been wearing the mask, I was sure he'd be grinning ear to ear.

"It's really easy. You're a fallen angel. A really special one. You were one of His very favorites, and still are, even if you're stuck down here with us. You've got a lot of power, could have a lot of influence. Use it. Ask for a boy with hair streaked in blood and a smile too wide for his own face. They'll find him for you; you can find him for me. He's gullible, horribly attached to me. Poor thing has too much power locked up inside him…" the boy trailed off, gaze shifting to the wall and blanking as he stared. It was silent for a few moments before he looked at me, still facing the wall. His eyes crinkled up in another smile. "They've got his face held together with a leather mask like mine, I hear. His has a zipper so he can eat. He's not like me, and I'm not like him. But, ah, well… we go so well together. You'll see."

And then the door opened and a nurse came in, new materials laying out on her cart. Bags of blood and a variety of pills and syringes. The majority of the pills and syringes were for me. They left me light-headed with blurry vision as she moved onto the boy, hooking an IV up to his arm and connecting it to the bag of blood. It took too long to realize with my sluggish mind that she did that because he was a vampire or something similar. He hissed at her as she left, her saccharine smile faltering just the slightest bit. She was scared of him. I stared for a minute before slurring out a question. 

"I'm Aeron. A monster. A kidnapper, a torturer, a murderer. Disgrace, vermin, hideous," he said, sounding equal parts proud and bitter. His eyes wrinkled with a sly smile hidden under thick leather. "But, Beau… he says I'm beautiful. He calls me lovely, and tells me he loves me. Beaumont believes I hang the sun in the sky every morning." His laugh rang out in the cell, high pitched and too amused, far louder than I expected with the mask over his mouth. My hearing was going fuzzy. "Poor Beau, he must be suffering without me. Sweet, gullible, terribly sad Beau…"

Everything became buzzing and white noise. I sat on my bed, hearing nothing and seeing little more. I wondered what they'd done to me. I felt light touches all over my skin, like feathers brushing past me. The smell of fire filled my nose, and that was odd because fire didn't really have a smell. Smoke did, but not the fire itself. Moments later, I realized it must be me burning. It had been hotter than this in Hell, but god did it hurt. 

Side effects, they called it. Temporary reactions to the medication, they said as my vision cleared. I still felt light touches all over my skin, though nothing was touching me. They felt more like fingers now. Or maybe tendrils of light and magic, things that I hadn't felt since I was cast out of Heaven. The mere thought of it sent pain rippling up and down my spine, pooling in the scars on my back. I curled in on myself slightly, knowing it wouldn't help but unable to release the thought of 'what if it does?' I could still feel Aeron's presence in the room, like an oppressive cloud. He was too much to bear right now, even restrained as he was. I had a feeling he would always be too much. 

"What happens if I get you back to Beaumont," I asked quietly, barely loud enough to be heard by any normal human. 

"Then I get my friend back, and we can try to convince the staff that Beau and I are totally okay for each other, not gonna cause any issues whatsoever, and maybe I get outta your hair. I mean, you don't think I'm bad for Beau, do you," the self-professed murderer asked. I glanced at him before looking away and licking my lips. I wondered if their dryness was related to the medicine. 

"What are you, Aeron? A vampire? The nurse brought in blood for you," I asked him. He nodded. "What did you do to him? Why would he need a mask to… 'hold his face together?' What does that mean?" Aeron's eyes darkened slightly, though with what I couldn't tell. 

"Dear Beaumont didn't smile enough. I didn't either, in the past, but I solved that with a painting on my hand. A permanent one. Beau didn't want to solve it that way; he didn't want to solve it at all. So, I fixed it for him, in a different way. His is more permanent than mine, you could say," he said with a light laugh, his eyes darkening further. I'd almost consider it something between blood-lust and desire. "When a friend doesn't smile often, it's only natural that you fix it for them. I was merely assisting a friend when I cut his mouth wider and shoved cotton in between. I mean, what good would it have done if it healed, eh? I only did what any good friend would've."

I nodded numbly. Honestly, Aeron was crazy, at least a little bit. It would probably be better for Beaumont if he never saw Aeron again. But I couldn't be bothered to care. I might have, once, but that was too long ago. All I wanted now was to be rid of Aeron's madness. He scared me more than I scared myself.


	4. Fear overcomes all in the minds of the weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of hallucination, auto-cannibalism, suicide attempts, ripping bolts out of one's face, panic attacks(?), and cussing.

The next day, they left Aeron in the cell while I was in the commons area to interact with other patients. For the first few minutes, I sat in silence, idly listening to Lucius chatting my ear off. Something about his last roommate being put in solitary and then almost concussing himself when he slammed his head against a wall. Lucius suspected that he was trying to end his own life. Then, someone shuffled into the room.

He looked very small because of the way he walked, slouching down and staring at the floor. His hair was dark, so black it seemed to pull all the color around him out of view, but as the lights overhead shone down upon it, I saw red highlights in it; it really did look like someone had spilled blood in his hair, blood that's drying and nearing black. The mask over his face was black leather, the smooth expanse broken by a zipper in the middle, where I assumed his mouth would be. He wasn't in a straitjacket like Aeron, but he had thick, metal bracelets wrapped around his wrists. Even from so far away, I could feel the grey restraints holding something down. His soul, maybe, though that was hardly something to hold back no matter who you were referring to.

He huddled up against a wall, as far from others as he could get. The action reminded me of myself, and I found myself watching his ash-grey eyes as they darted around the room, taking in every face. I couldn't tell whether his eyes lingered on me out of curiosity or fear. I'd have gone and asked myself, mostly out of desire to be rid of Aeron, but he was gone as soon as his eyes left me. He pushed off the wall and bolted, running down a hall as guards chased after him. I stared after him before turning my attention to Lucius, who was chattering again.

"Who was that guy? D'you see the way he just up and ran? I bet he gets put in solitary. Hopefully he doesn't try what uh… well, I can't remember his name, but hopefully he doesn't try what my cellmate did. He seems like a good kid. I mean, he had those pretty bracelets on. Not that I could wear them, they'd tear me apart, but, y'know? You get what I mean, right," he asked, continuing without letting me answer, "yeah, of course you do! That's why I like you, Arrian! You get me!" At that, he tried to lean over and presumably hug me, but as he was wearing a straitjacket, he could do nothing of the sort and had to settle for leaning against me. I pushed him away immediately. "Aw, come on, Arri-"

"No."

"It's like I don't even have arms, can't you just-

"No. No hugging. I refuse. Let it go or I'm not talking to you at all for the next month."

"Okay. Yeah. No hugs, got it."

A few seconds of silence.

"So, what's with that kid? You seemed to be pretty interested in 'im. How come," Lucius asked. I sighed and leaned my head against the wall behind me.

"He's got something with my cellmate. His name is Beaumont. I don't know exactly what's up with him, like what he is. Aeron did explain the mask he's wearing though. He's something that has to eat, hence the zipper. The mask is there in the first place because… well, Aeron cut his face open. Like the Joker's mouth. There was something else, but I can't remember. Can't be bothered to, I really shouldn't have to be thinking about this in the first place," I said, muttering at the end out of annoyance. Lucius nodded.

"Well, he sounds interesting at least. Your cellmate seems to have found someone unique, that's a plus. Means he has good taste, no pun intended! _hehe_ I guess you need to talk to him, huh? Well, He knows you aren't a socialite, so I can help! We'll set up meetings, talk to his friends, try to secure a chat with him, it'll be so much fun," he exclaimed, his words dragging a bit as he listed off things he could help with. I nodded offhandedly, letting my mind wander back to Aeron's friend. _His Beau_. He'd seemed to either be terrified or to be on the edge of it. And those bracelets… _what were they holding back?_

Before I realized it, we were being coaxed onto our feet and led back to our cells. Aeron was awake, staring at the door when they pushed it open. I frowned at him and sighed, sitting uncomfortably on my own bed. I kept my eyes off of Aeron for less than a minute before looking up and staring at him. I stared for less than ten seconds before speaking.

"Your friend won't last long in here. He's going to break. I saw him today. He was fidgety, nearly terrified. He couldn't look at me for more than a few seconds before he bolted. I wouldn't be surprised if they had him in solitary right now. We aren't supposed to leave, and he tried to. I'll bet they're angry," I said. He continued to stare at me. No response of any kind was given to show he'd heard me. He hadn't even blinked. "You were so worried about getting back to him before, what's changed? Realized you don't need him? Think you can fuck with me and make me your new toy?! Think again, weakass vampire, you aren't getting anywhere close t-"

_riiip_

It was abrupt and entirely unexpected. I glanced at the sheets, but they weren't in my hands. I hadn't ripped the sheets. It came again, and it was louder this time, longer. I could see Aeron's arms shifting in his straitjacket. As it slid down his shoulders, he pulled a hand free and pushed it down further. There was paint smudged on the back of his hand, the original shape barely recognizable, only faintly reminiscent of a simple smile. He shucked off the ruined fabric and pulled the mask away from his face, hooking the tips of his fingers over the air-tight edges and yanking, _hard._ The bolts holding the leather to his face popped out easily, not near as secure as I'd expected. Blood leaked from the new holes in his face, seeping out of dark holes lining the height of his cheeks and the bottom edges of his lower jaw. I could've stuck my pinkies in those holes if I wanted to-if I cared to get close enough.

I didn't, but he did. He hissed at me, the sound harsher than I thought it would be as it blew through his dagger-sharp teeth. His eyes were dark, completely black, and his nails were jagged and bloody. His lips were the worst part, hardly even there. He seemed to have bitten through them multiple times, chunks small and large missing from the flesh of his mouth. Had he… _eaten himself?_ It hardly mattered, because he threw himself at me, and I…

Despite having been a seraphim once, despite knowing nearly every combat style in exist, despite having been through battles with demons and otherwise many times before… even though I was once known for my fearlessness in confrontation, I put my hands up in front of me and screamed. I knew it was a terrible defense, once that would never have worked, but in the moment I was so… _panicked_ and _scared_ , and it was nothing I'd ever been before I fell.

I threw myself backwards and slammed into the wall, sending a wave of pain through my back. My scars ached, like my wings had only just been pulled from my back, and I arched my back off the wall and screamed again. I couldn't see, couldn't open my eyes to see, couldn't control anything when I was too busy trying not to lose myself in the feeling of being cast down. I just wanted it to end, I just wanted the burning to _stop_ , I just wished that _it would all just-_

-cease to exist.

And it did.

And I was sitting on my bed, my bare, calloused feet pressed lightly against the cold concrete.

And the door shut as the nurse left the room.

And I realized I had just sat down.

And I suddenly became aware that _none of it had been real._

And I laughed, because-

-because I knew somewhere far above me, and somewhere farther below, They were laughing at me and ridiculing me for my weakness, where I'd once been so strong.


	5. Adjustment is harder when it's an adjustment to nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of unintentional murder that could be interpreted as sexual but was not written to be seen as that. Mentions of self doubt and depreciation. Feel free to stop reading this one at any time, I understand if it gets to be too much.

Living was painful. No heart beat in my chest, for I was not human to own such a thing. Rather, every breath circulated dark, pulsing shadow throughout my body. I remembered that once, it had been bright, pure light that pushed me forward. It hadn't hurt then, to have it moving me. It hurt now.

Falling had tainted my light. It had been a long time since it was a force of God that moved me along. Or, it felt that way. With every day that passed, it became harder and harder to remember my time in Heaven. It felt like for longer than I'd been alive, darkness prickled under my skin, burned me as it forced me forward. No longer was I coaxed by gentle kindness. The days of His grace were gone, and I was left in the dust and shadows.

The darkness moved under my skin, black trails burning in their movements through my body: as if they consumed me in compensation for keeping me alive. They felt like poison, slow and sluggish under my skin. A memory fell upon me of when the tendrils once shone through my skin with the force of their purity, when they were once quick and agile, playful almost. And as I wondered how I knew a strand of light could be playful, I was reminded I had once been able to set them free from the limits of my body, to let them feed and grow from goodwill and good deeds. Mind absent from my actions, I watched as the tendril of darkness in my forearm pressed up through my skin, falling apart and oozing back together to rest on now-burning skin.

It was black as pitch, spread slightly upon my skin like cold ink spilling, thin wisps of mist black as sin curling towards the ceiling. I knew that if anyone were to see, they'd put bracelets like Beau's around my wrists and I'd shatter, so I tried to press it back down under my skin despite it hurting me so to be that way. I knew they would all love to watch me break. I knew they had all been watching me spiral into madness. I could tell that they enjoyed watching the broken-mirror-image I showed them, could tell they liked watching cracks spread further and further everyday.

The shadow, opposing my will, slipped from under my sizzling palm and threw itself at someone. The siren panicked and tried to pull it off, only succeeding in hurting her other hand. As it moved up her arm, it left bright red skin and smears of caustic black that bubbled and burned upon her skin. She screamed as it moved, as she saw it grow larger. She was a sinner, and it fed off that. When it covered her mouth, her screams were silenced to a degree, and it was a relief on everyone's ears. The scream of a siren was a terrible thing to experience.

It kept expanding even as it invaded her mouth and slid down her throat. Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling from eyes that would soon begin turning red from burst vessels. It slid down her throat and grew even then, forcing her throat to bulge with its demanding presence inside of her. I knew that where my light had fed off of purity without harming the source, my shadows fed off corruption while taking everything the source could bear to give, and then more after that. It would be going for her blood, her fear and pain. All she had going for her in that moment was her will to live, and after her time here, it wasn't strong enough to combat the presence of such a thing so close to its goal.

Lucius stood next to me, watching with wide eyes. In my stupor, I hadn't noticed his return. He'd been chattering with others about Beaumont. No one helped the siren as she fell to her knees, skin splitting as the hard bones of her thin legs his the concrete hard. Her white, standard-issue clothing stained red with her blood. Her tears had turned to blood and her lips were blue. Her greyed fingers fell from her neck and showed deep, bloodless gashes in her pale throat. No one moved to help her. It seemed everyone knew what was happening, even the victim herself. She finally, finally looked at me, staring with bloody eyes as her nose and ears began to run red. Soon, she'd lose the ability to see, could probably no longer hear. The last things she'd know would be the taste of acid on her tongue and the burning, oppressive shadow that had shoved itself down her throat.

If I were a demon, I'd be enjoying this show. I knew it to be an act from the shadow. It didn't need to go to these lengths to gather energy, could've grown longer as opposed to thicker and pierced her heart without torturing her. I knew that if Aeron were out here, he'd be laughing and having a grand time. If it were Beaumont watching, he'd be crying with her, despairing as fear shook him. He'd be wondering if he was to be the next target. I was enraptured and repulsed. It was terrifying and beautiful to watch my own energy do this, and I wondered for the first time if they operated off the will of their home, and if I wanted this to happen like this. I didn't know.

Her eyes shut, and she fell to the floor. There was a loud crack as her head hit the floor. She gave no reaction, and I knew it was because there was no more life in her to react to the impact. The tendril began to recede, the bulge in her throat removing itself and crawling towards me, sluggish with the weight of her blood, soul, and sin. Everyone watched as it wrapped around my ankle and pulled itself up, crawling under my clothes and staining them black in its path. I shivered as it pulled itself up my body. The burning no longer burned. It tickled now, and I wondered if it was because it had had something else to feed off of.

I stopped wondering where it was going as it pressed itself through my lips. I dropped my mouth open and let it slide in, let it slide back into its home and dissolve. It gave me the same treatment it had her, to an extent, pressing thick and insistent on my throat before soaking back into me just above my clavicles. As more of it fell back into me, I felt more full, more sated. No tears fell from my eyes as I let them shut, unable to bear the scrutiny of the other patients in the room. _Something is wrong with me,_ I concluded. I didn't feel disgusted by what the burning shadow had done. I realized, as the last of it slid down my throat, that I'd enjoyed it. My jaw was still dropped open, and it didn't close until I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, pressing my face into the front of my legs.


	6. When faced with two choices, pick what you fear most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of threatening, more death which is explicit in a slightly different manner than last chapter, insensitivity towards lives viewed as subhuman, status/power differences, suppression of natural powers/abilities using very painful cuffs, manipulation, and introspection.

I was jostled roughly as stocky guards pulled me to my feet. Sin-drunk and disoriented, I stumbled to my feet. My eyes travelled the room freely, staring momentarily at one fear-stricken face before falling upon another, and another, and another. So many faces, all terrified of me. I wasn't sure whether I was pleased or disappointed by it. What was I now? Was I still something of God, something that should love life and strive to protect it? _After what something from me just did? No, I don't think I am._ So then, was I the Devil's toy now? Did Lucifer control me, benefit from my presence on Earth? _Doesn't feel right._ So then, what was I? Who am I supposed to be? _Whose example should I follow now?_

It was all too confusing. There were no instructions, no manual. In Heaven, there were other angels, others who could tell me what was expected. Classes on what we were, on what we should be and how to act accordingly. And it was _easy_ , because it was part of _who we were._ That wasn't who I was anymore. I couldn't follow what I once had. I no longer had the sense of how to easily be good, how to easily act as a pure being. It was no longer me. And even my brief trip to Hell was unable to tell me what I should do as a fallen angel.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I registered being pushed roughly into a small cell. A real one, barely five foot by five foot, the ceiling barely higher. They locked thick rings of metal around my wrist, but they weren't the kind Beaumont had been wearing. My legs weren't strong enough to support me; I was still trying to get used to the heady influx of energy my shadows had stolen from the siren. My knees wobbled and gave out, and my arms were yanked over my head with an odd clinking. Staring upwards blearily, I realized the rings were manacles, attached to thick chains. They weren't long enough to let me sit comfortably. Even kneeling on my knees, I was still pulled up a bit, my thighs unable to rest on my heels like they'd have been otherwise.

I quickly became uncomfortable as I waited for the guards to return. I knew there was no way they were done with me. They wouldn't leave me unrestrained in such a crucial way, not if they cared for the other patients at all; then again, they probably didn't.

It was hard to keep my eyes open. The weight of the shadows circulating through me was pulling me under quickly, promising a dreamless sleep. I didn't understand how I knew that my mind would be blank if I slept now, but the promise of nothingness was hard to resist. Maybe I'd be able to think better when I woke up. Maybe it would make it easier to figure out how I moved forward from this. I let my eyes close and tried to lean back against the wall, no matter how uncomfortable the manacles were. My intoxication was making it easier to ignore the harsh, cold metal digging into my wrists.

I teetered on the edge of consciousness, limbs dragging with pleasant warmth but mind racing. It wasn't completely coherent because of what I'd done, more a muddled, confused slush of frantic thoughts. What would they do to me while I was asleep? I was vulnerable like this. They'd be in control of the situation. But sleep sounded like Heaven right now. An escape, a paradise. Escaping from this place was something I wanted badly. Even if being here was supposed to help me, I didn't want it. I didn't want their help, I just wanted to- _I just want to live freely._ If I'm going to live freely, I can't be here, and I can't follow the actions of others. I can't depend on others to tell me what to do and how to do it. It needs to be my decision.

So as the door opened quickly, slamming into the concrete loudly, I thought about what I wanted to do. I didn't want to sleep, so I stood. A guard walked in, not the same one that had pulled me here. My addled mind began to clear quickly. Had he heard about what happened, why i was in here? He was taller than the last one, but not quite so muscular. Despite being on the lean side, however, I knew that he'd be strong. They wouldn't have him in here otherwise. I dropped my bound hands in front of me and zeroed in on the thick manacles in the guard's hands. With the way the restraints sat on my wrists right now, and the size of the new ones in his hands, he'd have to undo these before he could put on the new ones. Thinking quickly, I let shadows bubble up along my palms, making sure to keep my hands facing the ground as I held them out limply. I made sure my face was blank as I stared at him.

He walked closer, taking regular, heavy steps. _Confident._ Like I was when they first pulled me here. I could still feel the phantom of blessed iron burning against my skin. He grabbed my wrist, narrowly missing the shadows festering on the underside of my hand. I let them drop when I realized he was going to put the iron bracelets on despite the chains. The first one clicked open and he turned my left hand over, making me rest it in the cradle of metal. He pressed it shut, and I felt ice begin to run through my veins. When he closed the other one around my wrist, he unclasped the manacles keeping me chained to the wall. I felt a scream building in the back of my throat as the ice burned more deeply. The shadows still sheltered in my body were now trapped, frantically searching for places within me to hide. My skin crawled and shifted with their movement, and the ice began to shatter in my veins; a harder obstacle for my life force to crawl through. The agonized scream ripped its way out my throat, high and broken.

And then, I fell to my knees. I cried silent tears, unable to do anything more. It was hard even to fall to the floor. Every movement hurt, a result of the ice shattering throughout my veins. It was different from the shadows. It was worse, a different kind of burning. It wasn't mine, and though I hadn't thought anything could hurt more than being cast from Heaven, I found something. The ice was locking threads of shadow in place, forcing them into stasis even as they tried to separate and escape. I could see the darkened patches under my skin, some resembling unclear webs and others like ugly clots.

My head drooped, no longer able to hold itself up quite so high, and my gaze fell to the small puddles of ink struggling on the floor. The guard started leaving, and I wanted to smile as I saw them follow after him, quickly picking up their pace. They caught him before he made it to the door, crawling up his pant legs. He tensed up immediately and whirled around to stare at me. I was making a painful effort to look up, to watch. His eyes were wide, swimming with confusion. I could see the small lumps crawling around on his skin, forcing the fabric of his clothing to press upward. His eyes dropped to his legs and he shouted in alarm, twisting and turning as he tried to keep track of them. He was a sinner too; nearly everyone was. They grew and became faster the longer they were on him.

One sizzled up through the fabric of his slacks and pressed into his pocket. It hissed angrily as it reemerged, dragging along a metallic circle that glinted in the light from the hall. The poor lighting silhouetted his struggle in black and made it seem more dramatic than it was. The small shadow, letting smoke off as it diminished quickly, dropped the circular device in front of my knees. Slowly, lethargically, I let my hands dip towards it. The metal around my right wrist touched it first, and it unclicked and fell with a quiet clatter. I let the left do the same as I felt the ice melting. It was slow and just as painful as it had been to have it enter my veins in the first place, but it felt great. _Like freedom._

Looking towards the guard, I saw that his hand was fisted in the mass of black shadow over his mouth and nose. As if I'd given some sort of signal, like it knew I was watching now, the shadow pulled itself into his mouth, taking his hand with it. It forced his hand into his mouth as it pressed in, thick and obtrusive. The guard's eyes widened as his jaw popped, the shadow forcing his mouth open wider so his hand would fit in. Only, there was no way his hand would fit. I began to hear cracking, and muffled screaming rang out from his mouth. I stood unsteadily and waited for a moment before walking towards him. I knocked his legs out from under him and he went down, hitting the floor heavily. I sat on his torso and watched, smiling, as small splinters of bone pushed through the skin along his sharp jawline. The inky mass in his mouth pressed down, down, further down his throat towards his heart. I put a hand over his heart and felt the rapid beating. I focused on the blood rolling down his face, towards the floor, and smiled as I let more shadows press through my skin. They dripped downward slowly, feeling little urgency. Being restrained like that had made all of us a little petty.

It was fun to watch him wriggle in pain as his skin burned under the caustic shadows. I couldn't see what was happening behind me, but from his groans, I was sure that it was a lot more fun for the shadows than it was for him. It could've been soon after that blood began oozing up through his skin. The passage of time was hard to catch concealed in the shadows thrown by the open door. Black bubbled up along with the red and I smiled, knowing that the shadows were invading his veins, absorbing and replacing his blood. He began to scream, that agonized sounds muted by the shadows I knew was still swollen in his throat. The black welling up alongside the crimson began growing and coalescing, his blood disappearing at the same rate. It prompted a cruel smile as he stared up at me and cried, his sobs aborted before they could leave his chest.

The light quickly faded from his eyes once it started. Even as petty as they were, my shadows were also impatient. They ran together and bled up my arms, travelling upwards under my clothing again. I heaved a long breath out as they sank into my skin, soaking into my chest and neck. The feeling of drunkenness and satisfaction cropped up again, and I smiled easily. I was unsteady when I stood, leaning against the wall to keep from falling over or collapsing.

I'd forgotten that I was a prisoner in an asylum, one being cuffed and suppressed. Guards caught up to me easily as I wandered aimlessly, having forgotten what I was supposed to be doing. Someone hit me over the head with something hard, and I blacked out.

As soon as I woke up, I knew I'd been moved. I was in a straitjacket now, my wrists weighed down by thick metal under the white sleeves. Ice had long ago spread and shattered under my skin. Moving was hard again. Moving was painful again. It felt like it was shards of glass in my veins, not ice, and I supposed as I shifted again that it very well could be a mixture of both. It felt like I was being shredded from the inside out. I was exhausted and my head pounded with a violent headache. A result of the shadows being frozen, unable to move me. I had to move myself now, without any assistance, and I'd never felt so terrible before. At least, not in a way I could bear to remember.

A door opened and my head lolled to the side as I stared up at the man in the doorway to my right. It was then that I realized the room looked strange. It was white and brightly lit. The walls were oddly puffy. I refocused on the man who'd opened the door when he moved. Breathing was a struggle. I had to labor to draw air in and push it out of my mouth. He scowled down at me as I trailed off in thought again, my eyes drifting around the room with my thoughts. He crouched in front of me and grabbed my face harshly, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were dark, the irises nearly black, and his hair was darker than mine even, blacker than any sin and curled up towards the ends. Unlike my hair, his was short enough that it didn't obscure his vision. He would've been cute if not for the anger swirling in his eyes and contorting his face.

His eyes were piercing and arresting; I couldn't look away from them as they dragged over my features. His nose had a gentle slope to it and his jawline walked the line of strong and sharp. His eyes were right on the edge of being big, and would've been kind if he'd been in any other place. He brushed my long bangs out of my eyes, making sure I could see him before he started talking.

"The only reason you're still alive is because the government demands we treat you lot as human. It's at their insistence that we try to help you, despite the overwhelming risk to ourselves. You freaks aren't worth it in my opinion, and your stunts today prove it. I think we should just kill every single one of you we find, but no… we aren't allowed to. We have to help you. We have to _fix_ you. I don't know why you fell, angel, but you aren't better than any of us. No inky shadow changes that. You're a sinner like the rest of us, and the sooner you realize that you're dirt like us, the better off we'll all be," he sneered. I stared at him, and he tightened his grip. I winced and a small noise of pain left my mouth before I could stop it. He smiled.

"Honestly, I didn't much like the man you killed, and the siren was a nuisance. There are a lot of problems around here, but I can hardly do anything about them. Legal issues, you know," he cut off with a snicker. "No, you probably don't have a clue what I'm suggesting. But no worries. I'm a kind man, as you'll come to learn. I'm the man that runs this place. Many of you refer to me as the Warden, since you all like to think of this place as a prison. You're new, so you might not have heard of me yet. My name is Kelcey Ambrose. I've got problematic people here, and you've got… uncontrollable urges that can get rid of them. And, I don't know myself, but these," he said, tapping the thick metal wrapped around my left wrist, "hurt you a lot, I'm told. Beaumont simply hates his down in solitary. You'd like to have them taken off, wouldn't you?" I nodded weakly. He smiled. "Use your words, angel."

"Don't like 'em. Hurts a lot…" I rasped out. He smiled.

"Thought so. I'll take them off and replace them with fakes if you agree to cooperate with me. I find problems every once in a while. When that happens, I'll call you down to my office or I'll have a guard pass the message along. You get rid of them, and we both benefit. You get fed on death and sin, and I have less issues to deal with. Do we have an agreement, Arrian," he asked lowly. I nearly nodded, but opted to respond verbally last second.

"Yes, Kelcey," I said. He smiled and tilted his head to the side, grabbing my hair tightly.

"None of that, angel. I'm your new god. You call me Mr. Ambrose or sir. Got it," he asked, his voice dark with menace.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose. I understand," I responded. He let go of my hair and smiled at me. I breathed out lightly, relieved.

"Good boy. I'll send someone to replace your cuffs tomorrow," he said. I stared after him, confused. He said- "You've still got a lesson to learn, angel. Oh, and make it easier on both of us, yeah? Don't make it obvious that they're fakes. Not for a while, at least. Gotta keep some semblance of control, after all."

"Yes, sir," I whispered. He looked at me over his shoulder as the lights in my room went out, body lit from the front by the hall lights. Like a faux halo. The lights outlined his slim waist and broad shoulders. I thought he was going to say something else, but if he was he decided against it and left. The door closed and I sat curled up on the floor. It was cold.


	7. Once you find something truly terrifying, other fears are mere trifles

With morning -there were no windows and no clocks, so I simply assumed- came a pair of stocky guards. They pulled me to my feet and undid the buckles on the back of the white fabric. They pulled my arms out of the sleeves as I tried to get used to the cool air on my bare arms. The white tank top they'd put on under the straitjacket was thin enough that I could see the starbursts of black frozen beneath my skin. They took off the restraining cuffs and replaced them with identical cuffs. My veins kept thawing after they put the new ones on, and for a moment the only thing I felt towards Kelcey was gratitude. I knew then that I'd do anything I had to in order to keep those things from ever coming in contact with my skin again. 

The taller one took the jacket and handed me a long sleeved white shirt. What I'd been wearing before. I took off the tank top, because even as cold as it was, I didn't feel very comfortable wearing more than one layer. I knew that as I took off the shirt, they'd see the large black bruises, like deep bruises, and the six scars stacked on top of each other on my back remnants of what felt like impossibly old memories that I'd rather forget. I slid my arms through the long sleeves shakily, biting my lip to avoid hissing in pain as the movement made my arms ache. My skin was overly sensitive where the shadows had frozen beneath my skin, where they were thawing, and it hurt to have the rough material drag over those places. 

Everything was uncomfortable. Walking barefoot on the cold concrete hurt, sending more pins prickling up my legs as I walked with legs that were trying to readjust to having something helping them. Eventually, maybe, the prickles of heated pain would ease and the only pain I would feel would be from the caustic slide of shadows under my skin. The rough hands of the guards dragging me along were uncomfortable. They handled my arms as callously as they might a couch or a chair. Their fingers rested on the edges of melting ink under my skin, pressing in harshly. The cuffs around my arm were uncomfortable, not painful like the others, but they weighed down my arms. It was like they were trying to drag me down to Hell. It would've made sense, but it would be too convenient for me to escape this place so easily as that. 

Walking back into my cell was a relief. It was still a cell, not a room, and Aeron was still there, but for once I didn't feel put off by him. I'd found someone to be more scared of than I had been of him. Now he was just some deranged vampire, forever wanting some messed up relationship with a coward, forever trapped at less than sixteen years old. I almost felt bad for him. He didn't say anything. It seemed like he was waiting for me to say something first. I didn't indulge him; I walked to the bars on the wall between our beds, the one with the door on it, and stared out at Lucius's cell. After a few moments, I bit my lip. 

"Lucius, you there," I called out. His bright red hair popped up almost immediately. I wondered briefly if he dyed it, and if so, where he got the dye from. He smiled when he saw me, before the smile dimmed a bit. 

"What'd you do, Arrian," he asked cautiously. I smiled bitterly and leaned my head against the thick bar in front of me. 

"I just remembered when the shadows were light. They used to be playful. They changed when I did. I didn't know they'd kill her, didn't even know what I was doing," I told him. I shook my head against the bar. "I did it again after that, probably could've escaped. I got distracted though, and they caught me. I woke up in a straitjacket, suppressors around my wrists. They hurt, Lucius." I paused, wondering how much I should say. Probably not a lot. I should lie, probably. "The Warden visited me. Told me to behave, that I wouldn't get another warning. He said he'd kill me next time. Only reason he gave me for letting me off easier was that the siren was worse than me." I raised my cuffed wrist to show him the thick metal, meant to stand in place of a real suppressor. Lucius gasped, probably, -I couldn't hear it from here if he did with the cloth mask over his mouth- and covered his mouth. His eyes were filling with tears. I let my hand drop out of sight and his gaze followed it. I clung to the bar with my right hand and sighed. When I reopened my eyes, I stared right at Lucius. "I wish I could get out of here, Lucius. I know it's impossible though."

With that, I dropped my hand and trudged back over to my bed. I made sure to sit far enough back that my feet wouldn't touch the floor, even as tall as I was, and I leaned my head against the wall. 

"What did you do? No one tells me anything," Aeron said. He sounded like a petulant child being told he couldn't have any dessert. I shook my head and undid the blunt white buttons on my shirt. I started pulling it aside as I answered. 

"I killed two people with these," I told him, a wicked smile on my face as I showed him the thawing shadows pressed against my skin. They moved sluggishly, trying to get their bearings again. His eyes widened as he watched, and I smiled in satisfaction. I let them press against my skin harder, obviously trying to leave the confines of my skin. It seemed that somehow, whether because they were part of me or because they listened in to Kelcey's demands even frozen, they knew they shouldn't show that the cuffs were fakes. They made it seem as if they were unable to escape, no matter how hard they tried. 

"What are those," he asked, still wide-eyed. I smiled and let the shirt start fall shut. I buttoned it as I smiled and kept my mouth shut. I hummed a tune, nothing particular. It was more an amalgamation of a wide array of songs I'd heard before. An odd sort of church hymn, all mixed up and out of order. 

"Your death, most likely. It seems only fitting, considering the things you've said. It was just a cover wasn't it? You were pretending. What did you do to Beau? Why do you want him near you so badly," I asked. He frowned and looked away from me. 

"I hurt him. But he's all I have. I'm going mad without him," he said. I smiled. 

"That's good."


	8. Stormy nights bring bloody frights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of injuries and half severed limbs. Mentions of syringe administered medication and improperly cared for wounds.

It was a stormy night. Thunder had been roaring outside, following the rending flashes of lightning we couldn't see. I wondered when I last felt rain on my skin. Like so many things I'd experienced before my internment in the mental facility, it seemed to have happened a thousand years ago. 

They seemed to like bringing in new patients while darkness ruled the sky. Maybe they were ashamed that they even had to attempt to help such monsters in the first place. Maybe it was just easier to bring them in when it was too dark for anyone to see. No matter what the reason, a whispering started in the halls. It echoed down to us, too distorted by the time it reached us to be understood, but I knew what it meant. The same murmurs had cropped up when they brought me in before the sun was over the horizon. I walked over to the barred window overlooking the rest of the hall and rested my forearm against the thin lip of concrete. I put my head on my arm and waited. Lucius was already standing at his window. His roommate was nowhere to be seen, though he'd been let out of solitary with a bandage around his head. 

Aeron came to stand at the window, as far away from me as possible. He eyed me quietly, his gaze flickering to the hall occasionally. I wondered how he'd react when the new patient came through. Would his focus fall away from me and focus on him entirely? Or would he still be more interested in trying to solve the puzzle I'd presented him: what had happened the day before I came back from solitary, and what I could do with the black blotches under my skin. 

I couldn't figure the vampire out. He was insane, obviously, and that probably played a part in why his muzzle was different than Lucius's. He seemed to regard Beaumont as little more than a plaything up until I stopped showing fear towards him. He hadn't pled with me to reunite him with Beaumont recently, but I could tell he still wanted to see the man he called his friend. His everything, the only thing he had left. He knew he was a bad person and hadn't seemed bothered by it, but since he'd said he hurt Beaumont without a motive behind the words, he'd seemed unbalanced. It was probably just his medication. He'd been getting a lot of new meds recently, the collar of his straitjacket stained with his dark blood from the places they'd stuck him with syringes. 

My thoughts were cut off as the murmuring swelled into obnoxious chatter, and I winced at the sudden increase in noise. I stood up and looked out the window, trying to see past the concrete wall. I could just barely see the black cloth of the guards' uniforms. They walked forward steadily, the man between them taller than both by less than an inch. He wasn't as tall as I was, obviously below six foot even from this distance. I grabbed one of the bars and stared in shock at the white, red-streaked wing pressed against his back and side. I could only see one wing, and wondered what had happened to him. He'd fallen obviously, else he wouldn't be coming here, but to still have a wing after that… he must have done something strange to receive such a cruel punishment. 

As he came closer, I could see more of him. The iron cuffs on his wrists were blessed as mine had been, smoke curling towards the ceiling. I rubbed absently at the small sliver of exposed skin on my wrist as a phantom burn danced over my skin. His dark, defined eyebrows shaded eyes black as coal staring forward. His gaze was one of utter contempt, much as mine had been. His nose was straight, not strong enough to be called hooked but almost verging on it. His lips were slightly darker than those of most people I'd seen recently, plush enough that he looked to be pouting. His face was striking while having a certain softness to it, and I knew he was younger than me by at least a millenia. His jawline verged on sharp, just soft enough to set you off of thinking his face could pose a danger to you-if you didn't look at his eyes, that is. He had an undercut, the hair beneath his peach pink hair a burnt black that matched his eyes. His hair wasn't long enough to cover his eyes, only coming to just above his eyebrows and short enough in the back that it didn't touch his neck, short by an inch. 

His eyes caught on the metal cuff around my wrist, pulled there by the spark of light reflecting off of it, and then his angry gaze tangled with the curiosity in mine. I wondered if he could recognize what I was; I doubted he would without seeing my back or the shadows, and even then he might not recognize what the inky, too-tangible masses were. He looked at me for as long as he could before staring back at the hall in front of him, and I watched his back. In the absence of a shirt, I could see the raw wound on his back. They'd pulled him from his falling soon after it happened, the blood on his back too obviously new. He hadn't had the luxury of a few months to walk free as I had, though I'd spent most of my time in agony, constantly reopening the wounds on my back and falling into fits of screaming. 

The one wing he had bled as well. It was obvious that someone had been trying to tear it away, barely half hanging on his body. That made me question it more, because they'd been trying to strip him completely but had been unable to. Blood had been gushing from the wound at one point, the most obvious signs being the spatters of crimson against his white feathers and honey-tan skin. Now, it seeped slowly, like scarlet tears that were being held back by someone trying desperately to stay strong. And as he left my sight, I figured that's what he was. As I had been. I waited until the chatter lowered to a murmur, and then to silence. I stared across the hall at Lucius and gave him a weak smile. I couldn't name a single one of the emotions swirling through his eyes. I crossed the room and sat on my bed, laying down and staring at the ceiling with my hands folded over my stomach. As he'd been doing, Aeron sat at the end of my bed, the frizzy mop of his dead hair visible above the end. 

I wondered how long it would be until they let him come to the communal area.


	9. Answers, questions, curiosities, fears, lies, deceptions: characteristics of an improbable series of events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE'S A LOT IN THIS. Lots of explanation, lots of words, uh there's more death but it's not anywhere near as explicit as the last two were. There is conspiracy to drug one person and kill another, framing a third to cover up the crime. So uh, there's that. Kelcey is slightly unhinged if you didn't notice.
> 
> Also this one added nearly ten pages to the google doc lmao
> 
> Oh and probably religious blasphemy
> 
> And hallucinations

It was a few weeks later. Beaumont, surprising no one, didn't want to talk to Aeron. Not until I thought the vampire might be in a more stable place. He didn't talk to us much, though he did talk to us more than he did anyone else. Since Cain had come, he'd gravitated towards Lucius and I even more. Cain scared Beaumont, and Cain was the side of him we usually saw.

Cain, it seemed, had escaped Heaven before they ripped his second wing away-they kept his wing strapped to his body with thick leather. Falling had broken him into pieces, and Cain was simply the biggest. It could be hard to tell the difference between the other two, like right now. The fallen angel was sitting in front of us, his eyes closed and his body facing towards us more than away. Cain's other two personalities were both quiet to a point, though for different reasons. The more dangerous of the lesser personalities was always dead silent, constantly staring at someone with murder clear in his eyes. The softer one often hummed or sang. I was sure it was the softer one based off the almost inaudible tune he was humming under his breath.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and smiled at us. Beaumont jumped and clutched my arm. The angel's eyes tracked the movement and he frowned, before his lips settled into neutrality. Even as I watched, the softer personality was taken over by something angrier and more confident. Cain sneered at us before shaking his head.

"You shouldn't put too much thought into Norae's actions. They're too soft. Like an overeager puppy, Norae thinks that strangers are just new friends they haven't made yet. I don't need pity from the likes of you three unlike Norae," the angel said, his eyes swirling with upset and hatred. I smiled, but before I could think to respond, a pair of guards came towards us. The entire room fell silent as patients watched the burly men advance. I knew they must be here for me.

I stood up at their prompting and let them lead me away with their hands on my shoulders. Unlike they'd have been when I came, my shoulders drooped towards the floor and my feet dragged against concrete. It was hard to stay proud and willful when you lived in a hopeless place like this. Or maybe it was more the lack of love than the lack of hope.

I was curious about what would happen. How would he give me his orders? I doubted he thought me important enough to personally talk to on a regular basis. How would he expect me to carry out his orders? What would he do if I refused? I had a feeling it would be worse than just the suppressors. It would be something more severe than that. The momentary fear almost made me drop to the floor screaming, reminders of my past ghosting through my body. But then a door was opened and I was pushed in, and there was no time to lose myself. He wouldn't like it if I did something to remind him of what he hated.

His smile was cruel and his eyes were dark with some malicious emotion or intent. Kelcey Ambrose was truly, from what I had seen, a terrifying person. It was strange to think that he might not have always been like this. He might have been bright and happy once. There was nothing left of that by now, though, of that I was sure.

"The little angel is back, hmm? How have you been doing, angel," he asked. The term might have been an endearment once. It was little more than a mockery now. I nodded.

"Yes sir. I enjoy being free of the suppressors. Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr. Ambrose," I said, just loud enough that he'd hear me. I tried not to look at him.

"Good boy," he said, sounding oddly proud. I realized that he was speaking to me like someone might their dog. It made me feel weak. "Well, you aren't here for nothing. I've decided on the first problem for you to fix for me. You're friends with that red-head aren't you? The vampire?" I nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose," I told him. I almost told him that the red-headed vampire's name was Lucius. He wouldn't care.

"His roommate has certain reservations about rooming with a vampire, even a restrained one. He seems to think it'll break free and attack him. There's a reason that faun tries to kill himself so often. It amazes me that he'd honestly rather die than room with an undead freak. Not that I blame him. If I were in his position, I'd do the same," he said, laughing shortly. "Anyways, it looks really bad to the others that we can't get him to stop. You could probably make this one look like he was beaten to death easily enough. We'll blame it on one of the more problematic guards and get rid of them as well afterwards. The government should like that, don't you think?"

"I do, sir. It'll be like doing justice for a poor, unsuspecting patient. A martyr, maybe. The people love martyrs, even people in governments," I said. He was silent before he stood up, walking closer to me. He used his fingers to lift my chin, forcing me to look in his dark eyes. I wondered what he was looking for in my smoke-grey eyes. I didn't know myself what I was looking for in his. He smiled widely as his gaze wandered my face.

"Even if you are a freak, at the very least you know the right things to say," Kelcey said. He looked and sounded pleased. I allowed only the hint of a smile to fall upon my lips, and nodded slightly.

"Spending eons Heaven is a wonderful way to learn. It wasn't easy to learn how to avoid angering Him, but they say time can be your greatest weapon," I murmured. He kept smiling.

"Even angels have to suck up to the big guy, huh," he asked, sounding almost more like a statement. I nodded.

"It's one of the parts I don't miss, sir. Something this place has over Heaven is that I can figure out who I am down here. I don't have to be something specific. I know He would never have been pleased to know I enjoy killing," I said. Kelcey nodded.

"Well, angel, why don't you go see what you can do about the vampire's roommate. If you do well, the nurses will give you orders with your medication," he said. His eyes roamed over my face again. They stopped and I felt confusion cloud my mind. He pressed an angry, authoritative kiss to my lips. It felt more like a threat than anything, especially as he pulled away. He gave me what might pass as a genuine smile in some other situation. His eyes wrinkled at the corners as he smiled at me, bright teeth on display. "Something for you to remember me by."

With that, he let me go and turned around, the smile dropping as he dropped into his chair. He kicked his feet up on the desk and leaned back. I turned away and walked out the open door, letting the guards lead me back towards my room. It didn't look like Aeron had moved since this morning. I knew that Lucius's roommate tried to avoid going to the communal area, preferring to spend his free time without Lucius as often as possible. I had an idea, but it wouldn't be easy. It'd take a lot of talking.

The next day when the nurse came, Aeron was asleep. It was blessing really, and made what I planned to do a lot easier. Her smile was still just as static as ever, plastered across her face in an attempt to seem more pleasant and welcoming. As it stood, it never worked. When she walked towards me, however, I gave her a small smile. She seemed to falter. I whispered when I talked to her.

"Hi. Can I ask you for a favor," I asked quietly. She nodded hesitantly. I glanced at Aeron and shuffled closer to her, leaning in so I could talk more quietly. "I'm worried about Aeron. He hasn't been getting a lot of sleep. Is there any way you could help? Even a few extra hours of sleep would help him, I'm sure. It would probably help him in his recovery here." I tried to color my voice with as much concern as I possibly could. The nurse chewed on her lip, before glancing at her cart.

"I couldn't do anything today," she said quietly, her voice tight and almost as silent as the footfall of a cat. I had to strain to hear her words. "Not today," she repeated, "but tomorrow, maybe. I could put sleeping medication in his blood transfusion. He wouldn't notice, and it wouldn't be hard…. you're sure it could help?" She looked very nervous, understandably so. If anyone were to find out, she could be in a lot of trouble. I chewed on my lip, glancing between the woman and Aeron. She was young. I wasn't sure how young, or how long she'd been a nurse here, but surely it wasn't long if she was being persuaded so easily as this.

"I can't guarantee it; I'm not a medical professional, after all. But, I do know that I always feel a lot better- a lot more _stable_ after sleeping well," I told her, a complete lie, but one told well enough to convince her. She nodded and handed over my pills, waiting for me to swallow them and stretch my arm out while she readied a syringe. The sting was minimal by now, barely even registering in my mind. She moved to Aeron and woke him up, giving him his medicine as quickly as possible and encouraging him to go back to sleep. He fell asleep after half an hour, only two minutes before communal.

Today, when I was lead to the large room we were brought to for communal, Beaumont and Lucius were already there. My escorts had been later than usual. The new angel was sitting in front of them, cross-legged and glaring. I couldn't hear any singing or humming, so I assumed it wasn't Norae. Lucius smiled when he saw me walking towards them. His smile was even wider before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Arrian! Hanraoi, the other personality, told us his name! It's Hanraoi! Oh, and he told us we were misgendering Norae. They don't have a gender really, and would prefer they or them. That's why we're his most recent target for murder planning. But, I promised we'd try our best to remember, right, Beau," Lucius said. The amount of emotions he went through just by speaking in that minute was astonishing. Beaumont nodded. I turned to Hanraoi.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was referring to them incorrectly. I'll make sure to correct myself in the future," I said. The angel's eyes shifted to me and just stared for a while, before closing. After a few seconds, the angel began to hum, and I realized that somehow, I'd caused Norae to come back. I asked to be sure.

"Norae? Are you Norae?" They nodded and I sat down in front of them, next to Beaumont. He squirmed closer to me, and I wondered if he'd ever acted this clingy with Aeron. I couldn't imagine it, not when he was clearly an adult and Aeron looked like a child. I wondered if he did, and if it was part of why Aeron was so attached. I was certain no one else would have been comfortable enough with him to touch him or talk to him. Aeron had made it sound like Beaumont used to do stuff like that; at least, I felt that things like that would be things that people did with people they were "head over heels for". I was certain that at one point, if Aeron wasn't lying, Beaumont had had a case of Stockholm syndrome. Had he been given meds and therapy that fixed that? I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but I decided to talk to Norae first, since I didn't know how long they'd be here for.

"Do you like to sing a lot, Norae," I asked quietly. Softness seemed to fit Norae.

"I do," they answered, voice soft and quiet. It sounded, impossibly, as if it were constructed of pure light. "Would you like me to sing for you?" Beaumont answered before I could.

"Could you sing… do you know Yellow?"

" _and it was all yellow…_ " Norae sang softly, their eyes closed. They opened their eyes and looked at Beau. "That song?" Beaumont nodded, already entranced.

"Okay," Norae agreed quietly.

_Look at the stars… look how they shine for~ you… and everything you do… yeah they were all yellow…_  
_I came along… I wrote a song for~ you… and all the things you do… and it was called yellow_  
_So then I took my~ turn… oh what a thing to have done, and it was all yellow_  
_Your skin~ oh yeah your skin and bones… turn in~to something beautiful… do you know~ you know I love you so… you know I love you so_

Listening to them sing was like being in Heaven again. Their voice was more pure than I remembered the angelic choir ever being, though, so it was better, in a way. There was such raw emotion in their voice that I cried without meaning to, and when I realized it, I couldn't find it in myself to stop. Beaumont was sobbing by the time Norae finished singing. They waited to ask the question burning in their eyes until Beaumont stopped crying, even letting him wipe his nose and eyes first.

"Beaumont? Why did you cry," they asked, head tilted slightly. Beaumont shook his head.

"It's a silly reason. Aeron… he used to play that song a lot. He said it was our song. That was when I loved him, when I thought it was okay for him to do those things to me. I… I know it's not okay, now, but sometimes I still… I miss him. He wasn't always bad, like when we first met. It was when I actually looked the same age he was. He was much kinder then, maybe to make me trust him more. Maybe so I wouldn't suspect him of being what he was, or so I wouldn't believe it if I did learn. Have you… heard from the others, what he did to me," Beaumont asked quietly. Norae shook their head and smiled, somehow conveying their curiosity with the merest movement of their lips. He was reaching towards the back of his head, where his leather mask was secured to his head. His hands were shaking when Lucius put a gentle hand on his elbow.

"Beaumont, you know you don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable," he said quietly, barely loud enough for even me to hear.

"I know, Lucius. It's okay though. I trust you two, and I trust Norae. It will be okay," Beaumont responded quietly. His undid the metal buckle with some difficulty, refusing any help Lucius tried to offer. He lowered the mask slowly, the ends gripped so firmly in his hands that his knuckles were white. He'd said it would be okay, but I could tell he was having trouble. He looked so fragile right then that I was surprised the suppressors on his wrists didn't snap them in half. Norae's smile dropped when the mask was gone, and my face fell as well.

Aeron hadn't lied. He really had given Beaumont a permanent smile, by way of putting a knife to the corners of his mouth and pulling backwards. It wasn't even, one cut extending farther than the other. The longer one was also less precise, and I had the impression that he'd begun to lose control when he got to that side. The cut spanned the entire length of his cheek, only stopping because the bone that kept his bottom jaw attached to the top was in the way. The longer line was wobbly, like a child's first attempt at a straight line, or a line used to show the frequency of a sound. I wondered if this one would've been the frequency of Beau's screams while a vampire pulled a knife through his skin. Beaumont licked his lips, and I realized now why he swallowed so frequently. His cheeks were cut open, unable to stop spit from falling through.

"Aeron didn't think a tattoo was a good enough solution for me. That's what he did to himself when he decided he didn't smile often enough. He got a tattoo of a smile on the back of his hand, just covered his mouth with it when he couldn't smile on his own. But my hands were never really free, so that wasn't good enough. I needed to be smiling constantly, he said, or things would be worse," he said, his voice quiet and faltering. With shaking hands, he put the mask back on. He relaxed immensely when it was back in place. We didn't have any time to say more, because it was time to go back. The guards separated us quickly and efficiently, and I was back in my room before I even realized it. I sat on my bed and stared blankly at the wall. Aeron was awake, staring at me.

"He's not like you remember," is the only thing I said to the vampire for the rest of that day. I couldn't get the image out of my mind. How would something like that even feel? What would it feel like to be able to stick your tongue through the side of your face? How hard was it to keep your saliva in your own mouth without your cheeks intact? Thinking of it made me feel sick, not because it was horrifying, but because Beau didn't deserve something like that.

Waiting for the next round of medication was difficult. The anticipation made my leg shake when I let it rest on the floor, and made my hands fidget when my leg wasn't in motion. The nurse came in and smiled, perhaps more kindly than she had yesterday. She gave me my medication and handed me a slip of paper. I raised an eyebrow at it.

"From Mr. Ambrose," she said softly, moving my arm so she could stick me with the syringe. I glanced at the bag of blood on the cart before looking back at her, and she nodded with a smaller smile. I tried to look grateful and happy as I smiled back, unfolding the paper to read it while she moved onto Aeron.

_Quite the interesting decision, angel. I can't help but wonder what you're going to do next._

I wondered how he knew. Cameras, maybe. Or maybe the nurse had said something. Either way, it didn't matter. It just proved further that Kelcey was paying attention. The nurse smiled at me as she backed out of the room, cart of medication now empty except for the empty bottles, bags, and syringes.

"I hope it helps him," she whispered as she left. I nodded in agreement and waited until she was gone before standing walking over to Aeron. He'd already fallen asleep. I wanted to do something. I wanted to hurt him. But I couldn't. They'd know who did it, and they'd put me in solitary again, and my blood and my shadows would freeze and shatter. So I turned away and walked to the barred window. I could see Lucius's roommate sitting against the far wall, the bandages standing out clearly against his long, chestnut brown hair. I wondered if it was wavy naturally or if it was because of the sweat that darkened the lower layers of his hair. My hair had become wavy after drying in the air a few times.

Lucius was already gone. Our nurse had come later, so the guard probably would too. I let myself zone out as I waited, thinking back to one of the first days I was on Earth. It was bright and warm, and I spent the entire time screaming in a forest. Before I could work myself up into a similar fit of screaming, though, the guard came. I thought he might be early. Honestly, a steady schedule might help some of us recover enough to actually be let back into society. I was sure that was why Kelcey didn't do it. As soon as the guard came into view, I slumped down.

"Ah, sir, hello," I said quietly. The guard ignored me, beginning to unlock the heavy iron door. "Sir, I'm not sure I'm well enough to be around a lot of people today. Could I stay back here?" He sighed, but kept unlocking the door. He seemed to be having issues finding the right key. "My roommate's asleep though. I… I'm kind of used to talking to people, actually. Could you stay and keep me company?"

"Look, I've got a job to do. I've gotta take you and the rest on my list to communal and then bring you back afterwards. I didn't sleep much. Do yourself a favor and shut up," the guard said, clearly irritated. I pouted.

"So that's a no? I'll be lonely though… well, I guess I could talk to the guy in there," I said, staring into Lucius's cell. The guard glanced between me and the faun in the other cell. "It would be nicer if I could talk face-to-face though. It's less lonely. It would be easier to assure myself it's really happening. But, I'll make do, I guess…" The guard sighed again and opened my door. He quickly unlocked the door to Lucius's cell and pushed me in.

"I'm leaving the doors unlocked, but if any of you three is gone, I will personally hunt you down," he threatened before stalking off. The faun stared at me, terror in his chocolate brown, almond-shaped eyes. His eyebrows were straight, though drawn up in concern, and I was sure he'd have a nice smile. He had the lips for it, right in between thick and thin. One of his tan horns was shattered, and it took me a moment to remember that he'd tried to commit suicide by slamming his head into a concrete wall. His hooves scraped against the floor. The little fur not concealed by his white pants matched his hair. I sat down in front of the door.

"I've never met a faun. I'm Arrian," I said quietly. My voice was even.

"I know," he responded. His voice fluctuated, clearly colored by his fear.

"Lucius never told me your name. He missed you while you were in solitary," I said. His eyes widened.

"I hate him," he said immediately. He followed it with, "my name is Cimeilliauc."

"It's a nice name," I told him. He nodded in thanks. The lights flickered and suddenly went out. There was screaming somewhere far away, and I covered my ears. Listening to sirens scream was one of the worst things I'd ever heard. I heard cracking to my right and I flinched away, listening helplessly to the ragged breathing and wet squelching that accompanied it. I couldn't move. The ice and glass was filling my veins again, and I nearly screamed when someone touched me. I opened my eyes, hadn't even realized I'd closed them. The lights were on. I'd had another hallucination, but this one brought the faun closer.

"Are you okay," he asked. He sounded really concerned. I wondered if he thought I would be an ally to him. I nodded and lunged forward, covering his mouth with my hands as I pinned him to the floor. He whimpered as shadows filled his mouth, burning and searing the delicate flesh. I wondered briefly what it tasted like. I tried to control them, convince them to bruise him like he'd been beaten. The Warden's idea hadn't been a terrible one. It was over quickly, much more quickly than it had been any other time. I left him there and watched bruises form for a minute before opening the door and leaving the room. I walked to Kelcey's office as quickly as I could, trying to beat the drunken haze that was filling my mind. I knocked and nearly ripped the door off its hinges when he told me to come in. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. I was breathing heavily, but I tried to ignore that. Kelcey wouldn't wait long.

"I did it. Cimeilliauc is dead," I told him. I glanced up at him, and saw that the name had no meaning to him. "The faun. The vampire's roommate. The guard that escorts us to the common room is the one that let me into his room. We could blame it on him, unless there are any others you'd rather get rid of." He smiled widely, the display of teeth growing larger with every word I said. He nodded.

"I wondered why your nurse asked to put sleeping medication in your roommate's transfusion. She said you insisted sleep would help him, but it was this, wasn't it," Kelcey asked. I nodded, and he stood from his chair. He walked around the desk, hands swinging freely. He looked very happy. He held my face in his hands and stared at me. "You really are so clever with words, aren't you? Even got a guard to let you into another patient's cell. And did he leave the door open? I can't imagine how you'd be here right now unless that were the case." I nodded.

"Yes, sir. He left our doors unlocked. I told him I wasn't feeling well enough for communal today, but I still wanted to talk to someone. I told him it was more lonely if we weren't in the same room. He shouldn't have trusted me. That's bad protocol," I explained. Kelcey hummed and nodded, tracing a line up and down my jaw as he stared at the door behind me.

"Well, he is a problem, isn't he? I suppose we'll have to blame it on him. Oh, this is so much fun, isn't it, angel," he asked.

"It is, Mr. Ambrose," I replied. His eyes darkened and he leaned forward, the finger stilling completely.

"Say it again," he demanded.

"Mr. Ambrose," I said, phrasing it as more of a question. He smiled broadly at me, practically beaming, before it fell and he pressed a harsh, possessive kiss on my lips. It was more forceful than the last one, and I tasted blood. I wondered whose it was. He pulled back and wiped his mouth, breathing heavily.

"You taste like sin," he said. I nodded.

"I just killed someone. I imagine the taste of my shadows still linger," I said quietly. He stared at my lips and pressed another kiss to them. This time, I knew the blood was mine. That was because he bit into my lip until the skin ripped. When he pulled back this time, he let the blood shimmer darkly on his lips. It was like burnt copper.

"So you know who you belong to," he said heavily, before opening his door and pushing me into the hallway. I walked back to my room quickly, making sure the door was firmly closed. I ignored everything outside the cell. People came quickly and removed the faun's body. The guard who'd let me into Lucius's room was pulled down the hall, bound and gagged. He didn't have time to glare at me before he was gone. Aeron woke up and asked why I was bleeding. I told him I had a panic attack and bit through my own lip. He accepted it and remarked on the lack of the faun in Lucius's room. He'd seen him earlier, he swore, and it was unusual not to see him. I told him that a guard had beat him to death. He didn't say anything else before I fell asleep, drunk and exhausted.


	10. Those with questions should stay far away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More death, though not so explicit. I tagged Rape/Non-Con for the whole Kelcey/Arrian thing, it's more for the whole non consensual everything kelcey does. 
> 
> Now the nurse is involved in death plots and someone else knows what Kelcey does
> 
> Oh, and Arrian's blood isn't like human blood. It looks like molten copper

Kelcey didn't call me to his office, and I didn't go on my own. The nurse hadn't given me anything more than a smile, which she'd done after I thanked her the day after and told her I thought it had helped Aeron quite a bit. In truth, I was pretty sure that he was just losing his purpose in life without Beaumont around him. More than ever before, he seemed like a normal person. It must be the pills and serums shoving his madness far away from his mind.

"Arrian," he said softly, sounding like he was asking me something in a softer voice than I'd ever heard before. I didn't say anything. "How is Beaumont doing?" I sighed and stayed on the bed, turning my head only slightly to try and gauge why he might be asking. He just looked concerned. It wasn't what I expected.

"He's okay. That angel they brought in a while ago has multiple personalities. He's become friends with them. He doesn't talk much, unless it's to Lucius and I or the personality, and he told us about some of your past together. He showed us. He's gotten a lot better, I think. He's not so jumpy anymore," I said quietly, staring at the ceiling. It was easier to lay on my back and talk than it was to look at him.

It continued like that. I'd go about my day, and I'd come back and tell him small things about Beaumont. It seemed to become the only thing that was really keeping him together. For about a week, he became silent and almost completely still, never moving. He stared at the floor and didn't blink, doing the only thing he could. He was thinking very hard about something, and his attention only shifted when I told him about Beau. And then he broke his silence. Later that same day, the nurse gave me a note.

It was early in the morning, I assumed, when he woke me up and started talking.

"Arrian, I want to see him. Please. I'm better now. I swear. I've realized that the things I did to him were wrong. I don't know why I did them, not anymore. At first, I thought it was okay, that it was something I should help him with. He struggled a lot with himself, and he was really depressed. I- the blood I drank wasn't clean. There were drugs or alcohol in it a lot, and I was never really thinking clearly. I didn't understand, but I did know that my friend never smiled. Before I took him away and started hurting him, I was just his friend. I was okay with it. I tried where I could, even if it never really helped him. I tried so hard, but I couldn't understand him or why he was hurting. Then, I got the great idea that I could help him in other ways. Worse ways. I'd once gotten myself a permanent smile, and I thought I could do that for him too. Once the idea was there, it wouldn't leave. I had to do something about it. It was driving me _crazy_. And then I kidnapped him from his home at night, and I tortured him into smiling, into seeming happy. Everytime he asked _'why?'_ , I told him I was doing it for him. I was doing it to help him. At some point, we both started believing it, and by then, I was no longer what I had been," he said. He put as many of his emotions into his voice as he could, and I could tell it was genuine. I could practically hear his heart shattering. He had curled up on himself as much as he could, unable to wrap his arms around himself for comfort like I could see he wanted to.

"I was terrible for him. I was terrible _to him_. He deserves so much better than me," he said, sounding like he believed it. "And then, _finally_ , I got too careless and left him screaming in the basement while I had tea with the neighbor's boy. He knocked me out when he heard and called the authorities, I guess, because I woke up in your room, Beaumont nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a tall, dark haired man with grey eyes. You were so scared of me. You aren't anymore. I never figured out why you stopped being afraid, if it was what you did that day or something else."

"I found something else that was worse than you," I said simply. He nodded.

"That's not hard to do. I think that hallucination you had early on had a lot to do with it. Your eyes kinda hazed out for a second and then you laughed and looked at me like I was going to eat you. But you don't have a lot of those, not that I can tell. You've improved since being here. Like Beaumont has," he said. He paused for a second. "Like I have. I'm not strong enough to do anything, even if I wanted to. They put acid in the blood. I'm not sure I've got much time left. It's hard to do a lot of things. Sometimes, I swear I can feel it eating away at me. It's not strong, but it's persistent. Just once, please."

He sounded like he truly believed every word he said, and I realized that it was his truth. He was going to die, and he wanted to apologize. He wanted to say goodbye, make amends for the things he'd done. And looking back, I realized that it was the truth. His behavior hadn't been a ploy, he'd just been high on drugs when he was here from the blood he'd been drinking. Now, the drugs had been replaced with acid. I wondered if they were doing it to Lucius too. I hesitated to say what I was about to.

"I'll tell Beaumont. He said a while ago that he misses you, but he's better now. He understands that the things you did weren't okay. He's been waiting for me to tell him you were better, like him. I can't guarantee that you'll get to talk to him, because it's not my decision, it's…" I trailed off and frowned. My tongue ghosted over the scar on my lip.

"Arrian," Aeron asked. I sat up and looked at him. I looked at the little clock on the wall. It would be a while.

"It's Kelcey's decision," I said, not taking my eyes off the white surface.

"Kelcey? Who's Kelcey," Aeron asked. I sighed.

"He's what's worse than you. Kelcey Ambrose, though most people here call him the Warden. Once you get used to this place and forget that you used to think of it as a prison, it just doesn't fit anymore, though. He's the one in charge," I told him, distracted by the movement of the black plastic around the white circle hidden behind glass. "You don't want to meet him." I looked at the vampire, and saw a child. He looked confused and hopeful. He just nodded, and I hoped that the nurse would bring a note for me.

Waiting was agony, but I refused to go to sleep. Aeron stayed awake too, probably too excited by the idea of possibly getting to talk to Beaumont to even try and sleep. The hours passed slowly, and I spent most of it wondering whether Kelcey had found anyone that deserved his death sentence. I wondered who it would be. It didn't matter either way. If there was nothing today, I was going to his office anyways. Aeron deserved to see Beaumont again. He deserved the chance to apologize.

I had run through a lot of victims in my mind by the time the door opened. The nurse walked in backwards, and her smile was no longer plastic and fake. She had an older woman with her, once who didn't even try to fake a smile. The older woman stared at me, and I realized that staring wasn't the right word. It was examining. She was examining me, until she turned and did the same to Aeron. The nurse gave me a folded piece of paper after she gave me my meds.

"From Mr. Ambrose. He said it was urgent that you read it immediately," the nurse said, turning to Aeron. I opened it, ignoring the sloppy cursive on the front. The brief glimpse told me that he'd written _angel_ on it.

t _he woman with your nurse is an issue_  
_don't try to hide it, just get rid of her before she can leave with the nurse_

The writing was obviously rushed. He must have been taken by surprise, probably had barely had the time to write it before telling the nurse to give it to me. The other woman was absorbed in studying every inch of Aeron's body. I pulled the nurse's arm until she was right in front of me.

"Miss, leave the room now. Close the door and don't pay attention to anything you hear. It's better for you not to see this," I whispered in her ear. She looked at me questioningly, looking like she was ready to protest. "Please. Just trust me, like you did last time." She nodded and grabbed her cart, dragging it out of the room. She opened the door and started leaving. The rattling of empty syringes caught the attention of the older woman, and she whirled around.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady," the woman demanded, sounding incredulous. She walked forward, intending to stop the nurse. The nurse froze like a deer in the headlights. I stood from the bed and rushed at the woman, pressing her into the wall. I yelled at the nurse to leave and she did so with a terrified expression on her face.

"Unhand me this instant," the woman demanded. I shook my head and my hair fell into eyes. I started choking her, just enough to force her to stop struggling, and I put a hand over her mouth. Her muffled protests soon quieted completely. She could say nothing as the shadows filled her mouth and throat. Her face changed color quickly, much faster than the siren's had, and her face was soon flushed with purple and red. She would have fallen forward if I hadn't been holding onto her. I stepped back as she died and let her fall to the floor. I stumbled over to the barred window and looked for the nurse. She was standing right in front of the door, her hands pressed over her ears.

"Miss! Nurse, Miss nurse," I called. She opened her eyes and looked at me, relief filling her eyes. She was going to rush over, but I stopped her with a hand movement. "Don't look as you pass. Tell Mr. Ambrose that he doesn't have to worry, okay?" She nodded fearfully and grabbed her cart, pushing it dutifully along, eyes fixed straight ahead. I backed away and tripped over the older woman's body. I caught myself on the wall and struggled to breathe properly. There had been so much sin in her heart. It was hard to take all of it, though I knew nothing else would have killed her.

"Arrian, what did you do? I thought those cuffs were supposed to keep things like that from happening," he said. I just nodded.

"They are. Beau has some too, and he's never done anything he wasn't supposed to. Not like me. Kelcey is worse than you, Aeron. It was either this or wear them, and I couldn't wear them. Not again. I prefer pretending and fearing over having shards of ice and glass in my veins," I said. He didn't respond. I didn't hear the door open, but I couldn't ignore him when he grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face him. He took my face in his hands and ignored everything that wasn't me. He looked like he was completely out of his mind, his eyes wide and frantic and his hair a mess from having run his hands through it too many times. His fingertips were damp with saliva, and I assumed that as he'd done to his lips, he'd bitten his nails as far down as he could. A guard pulled the dead woman out of the room, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that Aeron was staring.

"Don't look please," I croaked out. Aeron turned away, and Kelcey smiled.

"How could I not look at you? You're so _good_ ," Kelcey said. I felt sick. He made me feel like I was going to throw up. "My angel. You didn't even ask, you just did what I told you. Such a wonderful boy." He sounded like he was talking to a pet again. He looked at me as one might a particularly beautiful painting. I was an object and a pet to him. There was no doubt about it, not when he acted like this towards me.

"Who was she, sir," I asked, my throat sore. Her sin had burned violently going down. It was easier to pretend I'd had some strong, bitter alcohol.

"She was from the government. They send her ever-so-often to check up on us," he said, his eyes focused on my face. I wondered how much he could see of my eyes.

"Then why did you ask me to kill her, Mr. Ambrose," I asked. I hoped he'd take the fatigue in my voice as a result of the effort I'd used to kill her.

"Oh angel, I _had to_. She'd have found out about you and the terrible things you do for me. She would have told them, and then they'd have taken you away from me. I couldn't let them have you. You're _mine_ ," he said, voice soft right up until the end; he had practically growled the word. One of his hands had moved into my hair at some point, and it pulled tight right then. I gasped at the sharp feeling, and the feeling of sickness spread as I groaned into his forceful kiss. He drew blood again, from my lips and my tongue, and I wanted to shove him away. My arms were still heavy with sin, however, and I was helpless but to let him do what he wanted. It was always like this after I killed for him. I was too helpless to stop anyone when I was weighed down by sin like this.

He pulled back and I felt my blood spilling out of my mouth. I could see him lick my coppery blood off his lips as he stared. It almost seemed like he was the vampire in the room. He leaned forward and licked the blood off my chin, and I squeezed my eyes shut under the fringe of my hair. He hummed, sounding extremely pleased. It was better that my eyes were hidden. I didn't know how he'd react to seeing the pain and disgust. There were two possibilities, and I didn't like either. He could be upset and throw me in solitary, slap the real cuffs on me again, or he could _like it_. I didn't want to know what he thought.

"You taste…" he couldn't seem to find the correct words to explain just how I tasted after drinking so much sin.

"There was so much sin," I said. My voice sounded strained, and it was something to could be misinterpreted as whining.

"Oh, my poor angel. Was it hard," he asked. His voice sounded too syrupy sweet, and I wondered if he'd been hit over the head. That wasn't a way I'd ever heard him speak before.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose. I'm so tired," I said. My voice had dropped to a whisper. He nodded.

"You do so much for me…" he trailed off, and I could tell he was considering something. "My bed is a lot more comfortable. Plus, I can keep an eye on you. I like to keep track of what's mine."

And I couldn't protest as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me along. My feet dragged and I let my head hang. I felt like a child being escorted to their bed after a nightmare. Only, the bed wasn't mine, and the man pulling me along _was_ my nightmare.


	11. Sometimes death is the only path to survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of kind of a panic attack, going temporarily blind, dying temporarily, temporary lose of senses, more death, (bad) descriptions of circulatory invasion (sorry that's weird), heart bursting, and still the whole thing where Kelcey is a freaky bitchass. Oh and a lot of cussing in one part

I was alone when I woke up. I sat up slowly, floundering in the warm sheets over a soft mattress. Unlike everything else in the asylum, the sheets were dark blue and the pillows had pale blue covers on them that were a few shades off white. There was a small fridge in one corner and a tall wardrobe in the other. There wasn't much else in the room, except whatever table the lamp was sitting on. It was dark, the lamp off and the heavy curtains blocking out the light from the window. I crawled off the bed towards the window and moved the curtains aside, wincing in the bright light from outside. The sky was a brighter blue than I'd ever seen, and the ground was covered with fallen leaves. The trees were bare, reminiscent of skeletons in an unkempt graveyard. The wind that blew through the screen was cool, a clear sign that the seasons were about to change. My thoughts raced as I tried to think. Had I really been here long enough for fall to begin transitioning back into winter? It didn't feel like it had been that long.

"Arrian," someone called out, sounding sleepy. I turned around, pressing my back against the wall. At first, I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. Surely I was hallucinating again. It looked a lot like Kelcey was standing at the end of his bed in sweats and a loose t-shirt with some band I'd never heard of emblazoned across the front, hair a mess and eyes bleary as he rubbed at them with the back of his hand. He looked harmless like that. His hands dropped and he blinked a few times, focusing on me in confusion. "How come you left the bed? I told you I was getting the nurse." He sounded like a curious child. I swallowed.

"Why were you getting the nurse," I asked quietly. His eyebrows furrowed.

"So you can take your medicine," he said, sounding like he was asking a question. I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Sir, I don't understand. Why am I… here," I asked, gesturing to his room as I glanced around it.

"You were tired after you got rid of the inspector for me. I figured you might sleep better in my bed; it's a lot more comfortable, after all," he said, quirking his eyebrow as he spoke. I remembered vague flashes of the things that had happened yesterday, and I felt sick when I remembered that he'd drawn blood again, actually licking it off my face this time. I covered my mouth with my hand and squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught of nausea. I slid down the wall as the door opened, my shirt hiking up in the process. Kelcey and the person who'd opened the door were talking, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Ringing had begun to fill my ears, drowning out everything else. I flinched when someone touched me, my skin feeling over sensitive to the point that what had probably been a soft touch hurt. I kept my eyes closed, unable to focus on more than one thing and letting my mouth be uncovered and opened. I felt pills touching my tongue, and I swallowed reflexively. I didn't know whether I wanted them to fix what was happening right now.

It was slow, but I noticed eventually that the ringing in my ears had begun to fade away. I could feel the warmth of someone pressed into my side, and I ignored it rather than think about who it might be. I was scared of the answer. I let my limbs fall limp as I tried to steady my breathing. It was coming and going in ragged trips back and forth, unable to catch a stable rhythm. I didn't have a heart, though I was sure it would be racing if I did; instead, I could feel the shadows moving about underneath my skin. They were burning again, leaving trails of pain that throbbed slow and steady just beneath the surface of my skin. When someone touched my face, rubbing underneath my eyes, my skin wasn't over sensitive anymore. I shouldn't have, but I opened my eyes.

It was Kelcey. He was pressed firmly into my side, his legs around my back and over the tops of my thighs. One arm was wrapped around my waist, his hand lacing itself with mine. The other hand was raised, wiping tears from my face shakily. It could've been interpreted as something kind or wholesome if you were watching without being able to see his face. There was some odd kind of look on his face, something I couldn't put a name to. It scared me and made me feel uncomfortable, unsafe even. I looked away, towards the door I'd heard opening earlier. The nurse was still standing there, her medicine cart gone. Her eyes were wide, tears falling silently over her cheeks until they were stopped by her hands, currently being used to cover her mouth. I let more tears slip and closed my eyes, leaning against the wall again. I just wanted it to be over and done with. I wanted to get better and leave, but I wasn't sure he'd ever let me. He might've once, but I felt like it was too late now.

I reopened my eyes and tried to plead with the nurse to get me out of here, out of this situation. I'd never felt so far removed from Heaven, and I'd never been so desperate before. She either understood or simply took pity on me, because she uncovered her mouth and wiped the tears away, clearing her throat afterwards. Kelcey tensed and dropped his hand, letting it rest on my waist. I clenched my jaw to avoid throwing up.

"Mr. Ambrose, there's a fight breaking out between a siren and a werewolf. The guards requested I fetch you immediately," the young woman said. He sighed, sounding extremely aggravated, and stood. He stretched and glanced at me, a frown spreading across his lips. A look of disdain filled his features, and I decided that I preferred that over what had been on his face before the nurse spoke.

"I'll tend to it after I get ready. Take the patient back to his room, will you," he asked, sounding entirely dismissive. The nurse nodded quickly as Kelcey moved to go browse his clothes. She stepped into the room quickly, pulling me up off the floor and guiding me out the door. I tried not to rely on her, but I felt incredibly drained. She yelped as I stumbled into a wall, taking her with me. I crumpled and sat on the floor, feeling too heavy to do anything other than sit there and stare into nothingness. I wasn't sure whether my eyes were closed or my vision had gone out.

"Sir, can I please get your help? I need to help this patient back to his room, but he's too unwell to be much help and I'm not strong enough to do it all myself," I heard the nurse say, somehow sounding like she was talking underwater. My breath began coming in huffs again, and I began to feel like I was drowning. My hand raised slowly to grasp my shirt. My eyes flew open when an arm slid underneath my knees, and I reached up blindly. My vision was almost completely black, only the barest of blurs appearing before my eyes. I flailed as I was lifted into the air, grabbing the closest thing I could in an attempt that keep from falling. I thought I might be shaking, but I couldn't be entirely sure. I closed my eyes and held as tight as I could.

At some point, a door opened and I stopped moving. I was set down on something somewhat soft and began to shiver without the heat of the person who'd been carrying me. I could understand the voices that rang out loudly this time.

"What's going on? Is he okay?"

"He _will be_ okay. He's not right now, but it'll be okay soon. I think it's a reaction to the medicine, though I have no clue why he would only react to it now. None of the medication has changed, and yet…"

"I'll wait outside, miss."

"Oh, of course. Thank you for the help."

A door closed.

"Where has he been?"

A kind of hiss sounded, ended as quickly as it started.

"He was with Mr. Ambrose."

"For two days?"

"Mr. Ambrose wouldn't let us move him. There was nothing we could do."

"He shouldn't be around that man any longer. It's not good for him. He's- that man is too much like I was. He needs to get himself some help."

"Please be careful what you say."

"It's the truth though!"

"Aeron, I agree with you, but there's nothing we can do. He was chosen by the government ages ago, and he'll win any case made against him. Patients have tried in the past, and it's never worked out. No one out there cares enough about you guys, and the few that do, like me, are too scared to speak up."

"Shit, he stopped moving!"

I felt soft hands on my face and tears slid down my face. It hurt again. Everything hurt, and I couldn't figure out why.

"He's not breathing! Sir, please go tell Mr. Ambrose that the seraphim stopped breathing!"

"What do we do?!"

"Calm down, Aeron! Being panicked isn't going to help."

I couldn't do anything except listen. I lay there in agony and listened to the nurse and my roommate panicking, and I somehow knew what I needed. It felt obvious to me when I realized the burn beneath my skin had grown stronger and spread farther. I opened my eyes and tried to catch my breath enough to talk, to tell them what they needed to know to help. When I finally did manage to say something, I couldn't hear it over the fuzzy warmth in my ears.

"Wait, he said something! Did you hear him?"

"Yeah, I… I understand now. I think."

"Why the fuck was I asked to-"

"Sir, he needs sin. I don't think he's going to survive without it for much longer."

There was a long, drawn out sigh.

"Well in that case, thank god someone got in a fight today. Go tell the guard to bring that werewolf here."

"Yes, sir."

There was a long silence, and then there was a hand on my chest, over where my heart would've been had I been human.

"His heart isn't beating."

"He doesn't have a heart, sir. How could you not know that angels don't have hearts?"

"My job is to keep you freaks away from the rest of society, not to learn about you. If I had the choice, I'd be somewhere far away from here. I don't have a choice though, so I stay here and suffer through this pitiful life."

I couldn't see, and Aeron didn't say anything, but I just knew it was a good thing that he was in a straitjacket and had a leather mask bolted to his face. He'd have probably killed Kelcey otherwise. The silence stretched out, and I simply laid in the bed and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. I couldn't find the energy to close my eyes again, so I just left them open. I heard growling and there was a sigh.

"I've got a problem for you to fix, angel. Everyone else needs to leave."

"I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"You'll do what I say, leech, or I'll tell him to kill you too."

There was an angry huff and footsteps began to echo again.

"I'm sorry, Arrian. I'm sorry I can't do anything to help you."

And then it was just, Kelcey, the problem and I.

"Get over here, mutt."

"You aren't blaming me for his death. I'm not fighting anyone anymore. Why am I here?"

"Because you have been fighting, and I'm tired of wasting money on you. Now get over here before I kill you myself."

And, I think because he had no other real choice, he walked over. The shadows under my skin moved closer to him as if magnetized, seeping out and crawling towards him. I was amazed to rediscover that I could sense the things that kept me running. Without even seeing them, I knew they were soaking into the skin of his ankles. It was weird, almost as if I was experiencing what they were, as if they were alive somehow. They began invading his blood vessels and bursting them as they moved, absorbing the sin that ran thick and hot through his blood. I didn't hear anything, but I could feel the vibrations of his screams resonating throughout his entire body. The shadows, thick as ink and growing larger and longer, moved easily through his blood, even when they were going against the natural flow of his blood. His body was being thrown out of balance as the intruders within him stirred up trouble and stripped sin from his bloodstream.

Reaching his heart was like being thrown into the ocean. His heart was filled to the brim with sin, and when the shadows collected in his heart and began to swell, it was like trying to strain the salt out of the ocean. The shadows grew and spread until they filled every nook and cranny of his circulatory system. His heart quickly gave under the strain and burst. I heard a thud as if through a door and the shadows crawled back up the bed, pressing close around me until they sank back into my skin. All was still for a moment, and then air flooded into my lungs and my vision cleared. I sat up, almost falling off the thin bed because I hadn't realized how close I was to the edge. I turned to look at the body on the floor and just looked at him for a moment. I had a strange urge to know who I'd killed, to know who he'd been.

His hair was dark, not as completely black as the things that had just killed him. The slightly curly strands could've been described as raven black, with a sheen of near blue to it in the light. His eyes were just as dark as his hair, even looking too dark against the backdrop of burst vessels in the whites of his eyes. They were small and heavily lined with dark lashes. Blood ran slowly from his nose, the light skin over the straight bridge mottled with red splotches. More burst vessels. He'd bitten through his thick bottom lip, the top just as thick. Blood was smeared over the defined cupid's bow of his top lip, and I imagined that if he hadn't hurt himself, his lips could be described as heart-shaped. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and long legs. He was handsome too, even with blood running from his nose and ears and splotches of red splatter painted over his skin. I looked at Kelcey and hugged my knees to my chest.

"Who was he," I asked, voice quiet. I thought that maybe, if someone listened close enough, it would be easy to hear the fear buried in my tone. He shrugged.

"Just some werewolf who kept getting in fights. You don't need to worry, angel. It's over now. You're okay again," he said, moving closer to me. I didn't move, just clenched my jaw and stared at the limp body before looking at him again.

"It's important to me. I want to know what his name was," I insisted. He exhaled angrily and stepped even closer, but I still didn't move. Suddenly, there was a voice at the door.

"Verne Langdon," said the feminine voice. I looked away from Kelcey and saw the nurse in the doorway, resolutely ignoring the body on the floor. The guard stepped past her and took hold of the werewolf's wrists, dragging him away. I watched, unable to take my eyes off the unfortunate man's face.

"I thought I told you to leave," Kelcey gritted out through clenched teeth, refusing to turn around.

"We did. We came back, to check on Arrian. We wanted to make sure he ended up okay," the nurse said quietly. Kelcey kept his eyes locked on me, fire brewing in their depths. He turned and walked through the door, arms crossing in the process. I wondered what he was trying to protect himself from. My attention was pulled away when the nurse walked in with Aeron in tow.

"Are you okay, Arrian," the nurse asked. I nodded.

"He didn't do anything," Aeron asked me. I shook my head. He sighed in relief and looked at the nurse. "I'll make sure he stays safe. Go back to work, miss." She nodded and left, though she didn't look happy about it. Aeron sat down in the floor, probably because it would be easier than trying to get back onto his bed without use of his arms.

"Arrian, you've gotta explain what's going on. I don't understand everything, but I know it's not good," Aeron demanded quietly. I shook my head and answered.

"I can't. I can't explain it to you. If I do, he'll make me get rid of you," I told the vampire quietly. He huffed through his nose.

"At least explain what's going on between you and Kelcey," he asked. I shrugged and kept my gaze on the wall to the left.

"He makes me feel sick," I said quietly. Everything felt too loud in the utter silence that reigned outside our cell. The door was still open. "He speaks to me like I'm an object or a pet. I can't tell him no, because he'll just kill me anyways. I don't want to die. Even if this is all I'll ever do in life, I don't want to die. I'm too scared to die to actually do it, even if I know that it's the only way I'm going to escape him. At this point, I don't think he's going to let me go even if I get better. He'll just keep me here and use me and make me feel like I want to die every day. Next time, if this happens again, don't find someone for me to kill. Pretend you're asleep until I'm dead." Aeron had begun to cry at some point while I was talking.

"Arrian…" his voice trailed off and he let out a muffled sob. He sniffled and stared at me. I couldn't meet his eyes. I felt dirty, incredibly dirty. "Why can't you just kill him? He's surely sinned more than anyone else here." I smiled bitterly.

"I think that's why. If I kill him that way, it'll kill me too. There's too much. I feel like it'll overload me the moment I try to pull the shadows back, and I'll have to at some point. It hurts more to move without them than it does with them. So, because I'd rather live than die, and because I'd rather do what he asks than let him put real suppressors on, I have to suffer," I told the vampire. When I looked at him, his emotion was so strong that it seemed to bleed from his eyes. I sighed and looked away, towards the wall in front of me.

"I should never have gotten curious enough to visit Hell. I should've stayed in Heaven. I mean, maybe I'd have still fallen for something else, but maybe I'd still be up there, carefree and happy," I murmured, raising my eyes to the ceiling. I smile spread over my lips, equal parts sad and bitter.

That night, I dreamt that God had sent one of my former peers to punish me. I woke screaming in the middle of the night, convinced that I was being burned by Heaven's holy fire.

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter and Curious Cat are both @catfacekathryn


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